<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Hide Out by RumbleFish14</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25047271">Hide Out</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RumbleFish14/pseuds/RumbleFish14'>RumbleFish14</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shameless (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Boys In Love, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, One Shot, Playful Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:22:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,798</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25047271</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RumbleFish14/pseuds/RumbleFish14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mickey invites Ian over for that sleepover</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>235</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hide Out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hide Out<br/>
(Oneshot)</p><p>Why did he think inviting Ian to a 'sleepover' while his house was empty was the smart thing to do? What made him suggest it in the first place?</p><p>Maybe it was Ian's awful recollection of his first few days in that group home with lumpy, bedbug ridden beds, no privacy, awful tasting good, curfew, or the fact that he'd get his ass beaten to a pulp if the others ever found out Ian was gay. </p><p>But that shouldn't have pulled at his heartstrings. He didn't, or shouldn't care if Ian wasn't living wild and free in the Gallagher house. He shouldn't care if Fiona had dropped the ball with social services and carted them away like trash. Why should he care if Ian had to sleep with one eye open at the group house? </p><p>Maybe he shouldn't have. He told himself he didn't, but he did. He really fucking did. Which was why, in a moment of weakness; partly because when he had his own stint in a group home thanks to Terry's utter lack of parenting skills, he wished someone had been nice enough to offer him a place to crash for a few days; he invited Ian to stay with him. </p><p>And Ian being Ian made it out to he more than two fuck buddies getting together to fuck; which is what Mickey convinced himself it was. Not some soft hearted moment, not some intense need to be alone with Ian...not that. Never that. </p><p>Now they were having a sleepover, like a bunch of little girls. They acted like little girls, Ian with those big green doe eyes, like he personally rode up on a horse and rescued his ass from some evil queen. Himself as well by offering it in the first place and knowing Ian knew he maybe kinda liked him more than he let on. More than what was allowed. </p><p>Fuck buddies. Smoke buddies. Our parents suck, let's get together buddies. Two guys with certain needs, certain sexual needs and no other means to satisfy those needs, so they used each other.</p><p>When Ian got that starry look in his eyes, the corner of his lips turning into a smirk, a happy smirk, Mickey knew Ian knew he wanted him to stay a few nights. But Mickey being Mickey did as he always had, and flipped off Ian as his reply, then turned away from that dopey stare and that torturously cute smile and walked away. </p><p>Now Ian was staying the night. </p><p>He already knew this, given that he asked. But asking is one thing, it gave him that nervous flutter in the pit of his stomach. Hoping Ian said no, hoping he said yes as well. Or what it meant if he said one and not the other. </p><p>Only now it was real. Ian was standing in his house, that same smile, the same starry eyes, just as happy as can be. While Mickey, on the other hand was freaking the fuck out.</p><p>The nervous flutter turned into a full blown storm, churning some deep seated need inside him. His palms were clammy and he kept having to dry them on his pants. Sweat rings under the pits of his arms, dampening his tank top. The collar too, both front and back and it was noticeable even if Ian didn't say anything. </p><p>His mind was racing as well, wondering if this changed anything between them, wondering if he wanted it to or not, even when he clearly did. Wondering what Ian expected the night to turn out like. Just a couple of guys smoking and drinking and hanging out until the morning came, or if it was some sort of sign. That it would turn into more, into something intimate and soft and unforgettable. </p><p>Did he look okay? Wearing just a normal pair of pants and one of his more ratty, overworn tank tops. Did his hair look okay? Was it standing up from all the times his fingers ran through it as he nervously awaited Ian's arrival? Was he talking as fast as he thought he was? Talking more than usual to keep that sexually charged silence away. Was he being more of an asshole, or less? Smiling too much, or not enough? Had Ian caught him staring one too many times? Was Ian having a good time?</p><p>He looked like he was. There had been nothing but light banter and smiles since he arrived. Fuck, was this a date? Did Mickey want it to be a date? Did Ian?! And how the fuck was he supposed to know???</p><p>The questions were endless. No real way to focus on one when dozens stacked up behind it within seconds of trying to decode it. </p><p>The reflection in the cracked mirror in the bathroom let him know he was panicking. As if the overly sweaty, shaky signs his body kept throwing off wasn't obvious. His eyes were wide, a little wild looking. Cheeks flushed, and not from the alcohol. But he wasn't smiling, maybe he couldn't until the nerves passed. IF they passed. Maybe, but he couldn't read his own body any more than he could read Ian's. </p><p>It was his third trip to the bathroom in under an hour. Ian must think he has some sort of bladder issue by now. And splashing water on his face still wasn't working. Pacing the floor from the door to the tub and back wasn't either. Mickey was still as tightly wound as he had been at the Kash and Grab. </p><p>"Get it together." Mickey reprimanded himself, glaring at his reflection while water dripped off his face. Both hands gripped the sink, shaking. "It's just Ian."</p><p>Just Ian. There was nothing as JUST Ian. </p><p>The pouding on the door made him jump. The sound heightened by his lack of concentration and way too many nerves flashing inside his body. He cursed under his breath and turned the water off. </p><p>"You good in there?" Came Ian's voice, sounding worried, curious. </p><p>"Yeah," Mickey barked in reply. He dried his hands, then his face. His hands still shook. "Comin."</p><p>He yanked open the door so fast that Ian nearly toppled into him. Ian must have been putting some of his weight on the door and now Mickey had one of Ian's forearms in his grip, hoping he didn't see his shaky hands. </p><p>"Shit, sorry. You came out faster than I thought." Ian laughed and Mickey hated the sound as much as he loved it. "All good?"</p><p>Mickey gave Ian a push by that same forearm, backing him up an inch. Ian expected it. Even gave him that lopsided smile and took another step back. </p><p>"Yeah, all good. Too much beer." Mickey lied easily and shoved his way past him, his arm sliding deliciously across Ian's chest. "Comin?"</p><p>Without waiting for a reply, or all those building questions to add up in his mind, Mickey grabbed another beer from the fridge and gulped down nearly half before he took a deep breath. </p><p>Ian just stood by the couch, watching him. Smiling that smile. Forcing the nerves to pulse inside him, the storm in his belly was a raging force. </p><p>"Shut up." Was the only thing Mickey said in reply to that smile. As he turned away when the oven dinged, he could hear Ian's chuckle. Because he just knew. "Seagal, right?" </p><p>Ian snorted. "Fuck no, we already had this talk Mickey. Just accept it."</p><p>With a somewhat fond roll of his eyes, Mickey slipped both oven mitts on and pulled the pan of pizza rolls out. He almost set them down against the oven top when he realized something. </p><p>This was a date. </p><p>Fuck. </p><p>The invitation, even if he hadn't thought it through before he asked. The booze he paid for so Ian wouldn't have to steal it from Linda again. Him making food; aka pizza rolls, simple and easy, but they were Ian's favorite. Letting Ian pick the movie they watched, even when their taste in action hero's weren't the same. </p><p>This was a date.</p><p>Panic was rising up again, making him want to run back into the bathroom and do another splash, 'get it together' routine. It wouldn't help, but the reprieve away from that smile, those soft eyes and the roaring presence that was Ian Gallagher might help him calm down before it started up again. </p><p>"Maybe we should just pick Bruce this time." Ian flopped down against the couch. "That way we can actually watch a movie and not argue about it."</p><p>"Just put yours on." Mickey barked and stepped into the living room with a racing heart and a hot pan of pizza rolls. "Other one is worn too much anyway."</p><p>There was that smile again. Only wider, showing straight white teeth and the crinkle around his eyes. Mickey nearly tripped over the rug as he put the pan down on the coffee table. </p><p>Was it hot in here? No, it was only Ian's eyes, laser focused on him. Heating the ice off his heart until it was soft and warm and beating wildly in his chest. </p><p>"Last chance." Mickey said, turning away from that stupid smile to grab his beer, plus another for Ian and came back into the living room. </p><p>At that, Ian moved across the room to the t.v. and exchanged DVDs from Seagal to Damme. Mickey did not look at the way Ian's jeans hugged the back of his legs. He absolutely did NOT look. He didn't notice that Ian's jeans seemed a little too tight, he didn't notice the band of Ian's boxers poking out of the waistband. Nope. He didn't notice that at all.</p><p>"Two whole days of this and you'll be lovin this more than Seagal." Ian was cocky as he said it and Mickey poked the corner of his mouth with his tongue to stop the smile. "I would bet on it."</p><p>Mickey snatched the remote away as Ian sat down next to him. Way, way closer than he'd been before. Close enough for their arms to touch, close enough that if Ian glanced down at them he'd be able to see the goosebumps up his arms. There was an entire couch and Ian chose to sit close enough to touch arms. </p><p>Could Ian hear how fast his heart was pounding? Like a bird stuck in a cage, flapping its wings wildly. Taking his breath away. </p><p>"And you'd lose." Mickey said finally when he swallowed his heart beat over and over again. "You lose every bet we make."</p><p>"Not every bet." Ian countered, nudging his arm. "I've won a few before."</p><p>"Name two." Mickey lifted his eyebrows, challenging him. Ian's mouth opened a time or two but nothing came out. He smiled. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Now shut up and watch the fuckin movie."</p><p>With a shared smile, Ian's; that big, carefree smile, and more than ten whole seconds of eye contact, they turned to the t.v. as the opening credits began. He could feel Ian's eyes on him even after. Not staring in a way that would seem creepy, but a glance or two every few seconds. Like he couldn't help it. Like he couldn't control it.  </p><p>Mickey knew because he was doing it too. </p><p>Alternating between popping pizza rolls into his mouth, washing it down with beer, sneaking a glance of two at Ian, Mickey wiped the palms of his hands on his pants. That nervous sweat building again. </p><p>Ian noticed. "What's up?"</p><p>Mickey looked over, pushing the pizza roll he was chewing into the corner of his cheek. His voice was soft, despite trying to sound irritated. "Nothin. Why?"</p><p>Ian motioned to his hands and Mickey clenched them tightly. "You keep fidgeting."</p><p>"Shouldn't you be watchin the movie?" Mickey barked, a little heat came off this time. "Don't want you to miss the Van-double-Damme shit."</p><p>Ian laughed, an abrupt sound that Mickey felt on his face. Why did it make his stomach tighten? Why did his heart beat faster? Why was he looking at the cute little quirk of Ian's lips as he laughed? </p><p>Then just as quickly as the laugh came, it stopped. Ian was still looking at him and he was still looking at Ian's lips. Knowing he got caught. Knowing Ian wouldn't let it go like someone else might have. </p><p>In slow motion, like in horror movies when the hero looks behind them and notices the monster, Mickey glanced up to meet Ian's eyes. They seemed closer than before because he was closer. He moved just an inch closer to Ian and it felt like he was on his lap. </p><p>"I've seen it a million times." Came Ian's answer, making Mickey rewind his thoughts to figure out what they'd been talking about. "I'm not really interested."</p><p>Mickey looked away from that soft, soft look. His stomach was a mess, his mind was a mess. He didn't care about the movie and he wanted Ian to kiss him. </p><p>So much had happened since that kiss, so much had happened before it, too. And the kiss, although brought up by Ian in regards to fucking an older man, was entirely Mickey's doing. Ian hadn't been expecting it, he hadn't pushed for it and it had taken him off guard. </p><p>Although it was quick, just a smooch on the lips before raiding the old man's house, it made an impact. Ian hadn't stopped with that starry eyed look since it happened. Somehow looking at him in a softer way then Mickey remembers. </p><p>Not that intense and cocky; "I wanna fuck you' look, but something different. Something just...softer. That's all there was to it, it was just soft. </p><p>And Mickey, maybe his looks towards Ian had gotten a little softer too, more frequent. Looking when he thought Ian wasn't, just to see his eyes as he glanced away pretending he hadn't been looking. And maybe he hadn't stopped thinking about that kiss. Or wanting more. Maybe kissing for longer this time. Maybe he wanted to feel Ian's hands on him, feel Ian kissing him back, or hearing that soft sigh he knew Ian would give. </p><p>"What?" Mickey asked, climbing from that jumbled mess in his mind. </p><p>"Nothing." Ian said quietly. Mickey knew it was a lie. So, he pushed. </p><p>"Something, if you keep staring at me." Mickey stared just as hard, waiting to see who would break first. Knowing it would be him. "Spill it."</p><p>Ian glanced away. Not at the t.v. but away, like he was looking for an answer in the walls or the curtains or the furniture. And when he did speak, it wasn't what Mickey expected. </p><p>"Thanks for letting me stay." Ian played with the lip of the bottle. "I said it before but this is way better than that group home."</p><p>Should he let it go, or poke at Ian for the truth behind that stare? Did he want it bad enough? The kiss, the closeness? If he let it go, the moment, there might not be another one. </p><p>"Of course it is." Mickey motioned to the messy, cluttered room. "Basically the same shit here as there. Only no curfew."</p><p>Ian smiled. "No curfew or shitty beds…" Mickey raised his eyebrow and Ian chuckled. "No one steals my shoes. Don't gotta sleep with like 50 other people in the room."</p><p>Mickey shrugged, feeling warmth spread through him each time Ian named something better there than at the home. </p><p>"We get kick ass movies, pizza rolls, beer," he wiggled the bottle. </p><p>Mickey looked over then and watched the twinkle in Ian's eyes. He got it when he was about to get all sweet and mushy on him. Saying stuff that made him blush and squirm and want to move away. </p><p>"And you're here," Ian finally said, his eyes hazy looking. "I'd say that's much better than that fucking place."</p><p>There it was. That feeling. That warmth. It spread throughout his entire body, until his palms began to sweat once more. </p><p>Without knowing what to say to that, Mickey just looked at him. No shying away, no squirming, just eye contact. Feeling more exposed than he had in his entire life, he looked. And looked. And looked until tension fell heavy on their shoulders. </p><p>That warmth was like a pull. The heat itself came from Ian, from his body, his words. Mickey was like a moth drawn to the light, drawn to the heat. He craved it, even if it could hurt him. He needed to feel it, he needed to look and touch and bask in it.</p><p>Mickey couldn't reply to Ian's soft words. He didn't have it in his vocabulary. He would struggle with the words, then get angry when they wouldn't come out the right way. Then get angry at Ian, at everything and the entire night would be ruined. </p><p>So, he didn't say anything. He just looked. He kept eye contact with Ian, never once looking away. Ian knew what it took for him to do that, to not shy away. It was in Ian's eyes, in his next smile. </p><p>Somewhere in all that looking, their beers had been placed on the table, the remote for the tv too. Pushed away, pushed out of their minds. The air changed, bringing in that tension, settling it within them. Drawing them in. </p><p>"Did you want to…" Ian trailed off, blushing. Mickey knew why and what he was trying to say, to ask. "Maybe?"</p><p>Mickey chuckled, easing the tension until Ian laughed too and rubbed over his short hair, blushing still. Once the laughter faded, Mickey knew his eyes were flirty, he could feel it, just as Ian could see it. </p><p>"Maybe." Mickey replied. His insides quivering in anticipation. "Here?" </p><p>Ian shrugged awkwardly. "Here, the bedroom. Wherever."</p><p>It wouldn't be them, it wouldn't feel right without it being a little awkward. Sex for them had always been a little awkward. Not knowing how to start unless Mickey barked orders and Ian was in a hurry to jump to it before he could change his mind. It had never been brought up like this, never suggested in the way Ian just did. With both of them calm, finally on the same page, making full eye contact. Asking for it as if it was like asking for another beer or a snack. </p><p>Ian was asking to have sex with him. Why did that make it ten times as intense? Why did he have to hide every shiver, every sharp inhale?</p><p>Did they just get up and move into the bedroom, tearing off clothes along the way? Or stay on the couch and each of them take off their own clothes, all calm like? When they were naked and ready, did Mickey just turn and bend and let Ian take control? </p><p>"Wherever is good." Ian said in a nonchalant tone. Mickey could see right through it. "But, do you think maybe we can...like earlier? Maybe?"</p><p>The words were there, or nearly there. Mickey knew what Ian was asking, only he too didn't know how to do it like this. He was panicking too, sweaty maybe, tongue tied. Just as he was. He wasn't alone. Ian felt what he felt. </p><p>Ian wanted to kiss him. And Mickey wanted to let him. </p><p>While his heartbeat was all he could taste, Mickey held Ian's eyes, then nodded slowly, saying yes. Begging with his eyes, with his body, it only needed someone to read him the right way and that someone was Ian. </p><p>"Good," Ian blew out the breath he'd been holding. Mickey's caught when he turned more towards him, practically in his face. "Because I can't stop thinking about it."</p><p>At that, with his cheeks filling with blood, Mickey looked down at his hands, wishing he still had his beer with him. "Me too."</p><p>The smile was in Ian's voice. Mickey didn't even need to look up for it. "Yeah?"</p><p>"Yeah." </p><p>Again, how did they start? It was probably best to let Ian lead it, as per usual. He knew a lot more about this sort of thing, which took a lot of pressure off Mickey. He wouldn't even know how to begin. </p><p>"I was hoping you'd say that."</p><p>With a nervous tremble in his bottom lip, Mickey looked up and Ian was fully turned towards him. One long arm stretched against the back of the couch, halfway caging him in. Ian's chest was pressed into his shoulder and Mickey could feel the loud thump-thump of his heart. </p><p>Fuck. He had no idea how to do this. Ian knew that. He had to know. What if he was bad? What if he messed it up? Fuck. </p><p>"I'm not…" Mickey started saying, but stopped at the nearly nonexistent sound of his own voice. He cleared it and tried again. "I don't know what the fuck I'm doin."</p><p>Ian's eyes had been trained on his lips, now looked up into his eyes. "I know, it's easier when you get into it."</p><p>That he might have believed, with anyone else but Ian. Ian made it all different, at least for him. Ian could take him apart with one look, decimate every brick wall he built inside himself. Ian was his weakness. </p><p>"I'll take your word for it." Mickey said dryly. Prompting Ian to smile and lean in closer. Already taking control. "Well?"</p><p>When Ian smiled and reached out to cup one side of his face, in the softest...THE softest way possible, Mickey almost lost it. Just a feather light touch, extending from Ian's thumb which rested just below his bottom lip, his palm was huge; big enough to cup the side of his face and smooth to the touch; to the tips of Ian's fingers curling into the nape of his neck, brushing into his hair. </p><p>Without meaning to, or thinking about why, Mickey leaned against it, nuzzling into Ian's palm and exhaled a deep sigh. That's when Ian's thumb moved, slowly stroking his bottom lip. It felt like silk, velvety soft. </p><p>He wasn't sure how long that continued, well past where he was semi-comfortable and just as he was about to move, or say something, Ian leaned in. Slowly, so slowly, Mickey could count every little freckle on his face. From the darker, more prominent ones on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, to the ultra pale ones on his eyelids. </p><p>His breath caught in his chest, squeezing his lungs almost painfully. Ian was utterly beautiful and wanted to kiss him.</p><p>Ian's lips were slick, ready, very very pink. Mickey couldn't stop looking at them as they descended on his own. He barely had time to lick his own lips before Ian's were pressing against his own. </p><p>Soft and wet and delicious. Mickey was the one to sigh deeply, earning a deep grumble of a groan from Ian. That big hand on his cheek held him tighter, his thumb moving to his chin, turning him, deepening it. </p><p>A whispered 'fuck' barely hand enough time to escape as Mickey felt the kiss coming to an end, only for Ian to pull him into another one instantly. The tilt of his head deepened it again and he was drawn in, leaning towards Ian's mouth, trying to get more. </p><p>"Ian." Mickey whispered, or whimpered. He wasn't sure but whatever it was, was broken. He couldn't breathe enough to say more. Just that one word. "Ian."</p><p>"That was even better the second time." Ian breathed heavily against his lips, stroking the bottom with his thumb again. "Jesus."</p><p>A smile graced his lips, just the corner twisting enough for Ian to see it. Green eyes were opened, staring at his mouth. Mickey barely had time to take another breath before Ian was kissing him again. </p><p>The kiss was harder, his head tilting back a little so Ian had to chase him. And he did. Ian moved with him, keeping his grip firm, making heat pool in Mickey's gut, a groan slipping past his lips and into Ian's. </p><p>He wanted more. He wanted much, much more. He wanted the heat in his gut to intensify until his entire body radiated that feeling. </p><p>Why hadn't they been kissing this entire time? Why had Mickey denied them this feeling? And why in the fuck did it have to feel so fucking good? </p><p>As Ian's arm, laying against the back of the couch, came to land on his shoulders, his hand moving to the base of his neck, Mickey felt the tip of Ian's tongue against his lips. Seeking him out, wanting more, just like he did. </p><p>The deep rumble in his chest was suprising. He didn't even know he could make a sound like that, nor did he think twice about opening his lips just a little for Ian's tongue to slip between them. It was wet and soft and determined to ruin him. </p><p>"Fuck." Mickey said breathlessly as Ian pulled back. Breathing hard together, his face still cupped in Ian's palm. "Was that…? Uh, did you…?" He shook his heads as the words refused to come. "Fuck."</p><p>Ian smiled, but seemed just as affected as he was. He knew what Mickey had been trying to say. "Yeah, that was amazing."</p><p>Mickey's cheeks heated. </p><p>"And yeah," Ian said, making Mickey narrow his eyes. "I want more."</p><p>Who moved first was a blur. Ian grabbed at him just as he grabbed at Ian, his palms no longer sweating, but eager to feel Ian's body. His rhythmically pumping chest, the superhuman pace of his heart, each deep groan that rumbled up his chest. </p><p>Ian kissed him again, nearly crawling into his lap; stopped only by his own body being in the way. Ian hadn't crawled over him, just stayed leaning far over as his tongue slipped between his lips again and again until Mickey couldn't breathe. </p><p>His hands were balled up in Ian's shirt, pulling at it like he was seconds away from crawling into it. One gripped the hard muscle of Ian's arm, holding Ian's hand to his face, the other at the collar, holding Ian to him. </p><p>It was confusing and chaotic but Mickey wouldn't have asked for anything else. This kiss would be remembered until the day he died and there was no one he wanted to do it with aside from Ian. </p><p>"I want you." Ian moaned, pulling back so Mickey could see his eyes blown wide with lust. "Like so fucking bad."</p><p>They were panting out of control. In each other's faces. Eyes hazy, wandering from slick lips to lusty eyes, then lower where their hands were on each other. Pulling and grabbing and feeling.</p><p>"Get on me then." Mickey finally said after swallowing the lump in his throat. His voice sounded so sexed up, dripping with need. Like he was begging. "You know how this works."</p><p>A ghost of a smile twisted Ian's lips. "No, I really don't. Not like this, this is just…" He breathed deeply, turning his neck to avoid a shiver. "This isn't the same."</p><p>Mickey looked away. But Ian held his chin so he couldn't move any further. He looked into his eyes, into dark, wanting eyes. </p><p>"You know it's not."</p><p>"I know." Mickey snapped, but Ian didn't seem phased by it. "But you better get your shit together cuz I can't…" he shook his head, not wanting to say it, but it was too late. He blew out a breath, "because I can't do this."</p><p>Ian knew what he meant, what he needed without saying more. Ian was intuitive like that. He got them back where they needed to be without Mickey's mouth or attitude ruining it for them.</p><p>Then they were kissing again. Mickey moaned deeply, feeling Ian mimic the sound. Only this go around, Ian didn't just sit next to him. He moved, not up or away or breaking the kiss; because Mickey might have to kill him, but he moved down, kneeling on the ground between his legs. </p><p>"Wha--" Mickey was cut off by Ian's lips again, his own parting quickly to receive the sensual stroke of his tongue. </p><p>"Fuck the bedroom." Ian said when he pulled back, their heads leaning together. "We're stayin right here."</p><p>Mickey's only agreement was a swift nod of his head. His eyes were down, watching Ian's thighs strain under the right material of his jeans. Seeing the bulge at his hips, fighting off the urge to beg for it. </p><p>When Ian leaned back on the heels of his shoes, Mickey reached over Ian's back and pulled at the hem of his shirt, lifting it as Ian wiggled out of it. He tossed it somewhere, his eyes now focused on the flush that moved from Ian's cheeks down to his chest, to his nipples. </p><p>"Now you." Ian said and Mickey leaned up a little to wiggle out of his shirt as well. "Fuck."</p><p>The need in Ian's voice made him blush even harder, his skin turning pink, leading down to his chest like Ian's. "Shut up," Mickey hid a smile; Ian didn't. "Just keep going."</p><p>"Happily." Ian smirked, hands dropping between them to work on his jeans. </p><p>Mickey already had his undone and split open before Ian unlooped his belt. It was possible Ian was doing it on purpose, but he wouldn't wait to find out. He slapped Ian's out of the way and took over, objecting himself to Ian smirking.</p><p>"I like it better when you do it." Ian groaned when his body jerked to one side, splitting the jeans open. "It's rougher."</p><p>Blushing, Mickey scoffed to cover up how much he liked to hear stuff like that from Ian. "Shut up, stop slow walkin me."</p><p>"Slow is good." Ian leaned in, placing a rather soft, wet kiss against his lips before he could react. "But I'll go as fast or as slow as you want me to."</p><p>"Faster than a snails pace." Mickey said, mad that Ian's smile provoked another smile from him. "Come on, this isn't our first time."</p><p>Ian growled, sending shivers up Mickey's spine. "I remember everything about that time."</p><p>Mickey kicked his shoes off as a distraction from that look, that deep growling sound that made his entire body pulse. Ian also kicked his shoes off, still on his knees...giving him one too many ideas.</p><p>"Lean back."</p><p>Ian didn't give him time. One large hand pushed on his chest, making him lean back against the couch. Then moved to his jeans, pulling them down, then off and tossed then aside until he was wearing only a ratty pair of boxers. </p><p>"Lift."</p><p>Mickey lifted, his face heating yet again when he sat naked on the couch and Ian still in his clothes. It didn't matter how many times they had sex, or how many times he'd been naked in from of him, Ian's eyes made him squirm. They made him want to pull his clothes back on, and toss them aside and spread himself out just so he could have a better look, all at the same time.</p><p>Instead, his hands moved from both sides of the couch, then down to cover himself. Ian quirked one red eyebrow, then tilted his head like he was peeking past it. "Hurry up."</p><p>"Always in a rush." Ian shook his head but managed to wiggle out of his jeans without moving off his knees. "Stop hiding."</p><p>Mickey rolled his eyes. "M'not hiding." </p><p>Okay, he was hiding. Big time. This may not have been Ian's first time seeing him naked, far from it actually, but it was one of the few times sex between them wasn't rushed. No pants around their thighs, only allowing enough room for needed parts to be revealed, no shirts pulled up and tucked over their heads, this was all the way naked. </p><p>Ian had nothing to worry about. His body was the definition of perfection, at least in Mickey's book. He was tall for his age, finely muscled, and those muscles had been toned and worked until they were strong and hard, due to Ian's recent JR ROTC exercises. And the cherry on top of that perfect package...was well, his package. Well endowed was a kind, humble word when talking about Ian's size. </p><p>Mickey on the other hand was chalk full of body image issues. He was not fit like Ian, didn't have the height either. There was no constant exercise for him, unless running from Terry or the cops counted. He didn't eat right, or healthy, mostly just junk from the Kash and Grab. He drank too much beer, resulting in the beginnings of a beer belly if he wasn't careful. His body was soft, more so around the middle. He had the makings of abs, but hadn't honed them. His skin was pale, scars littered here and there, probably more than Ian had.</p><p>Now he was giving Ian full access to look, to touch, to judge; if he wanted. And Mickey half expected it, not that heated looks he received. Those hungry looks. </p><p>When Ian slapped his hands away, Mickey let him, groaning the entire time like he was irritated instead of flustered. Only a moment passed before they were equal and Ian slipped down his boxers too. </p><p>Trying not to oggle a man with a nine inch dick was harder than it sounded, pun intended. Mickey's eyes darted from his dick to every object around the room, but always ended up looking again. From the light brush of red pubic hair to the thick veins up either side, to the blunt head, wet with anticipation. </p><p>He visibly shivered and hated himself for it. </p><p>"Happy now?" Ian asked knowingly, his hands made their way to Mickey's knees, slowly sliding up. "Now kiss me again before you get flustered."</p><p>"Fuck you--" Mickey manged to say before Ian captured his mouth again, hungrily this time. He couldn't get another word out, and Ian wasn't wrong. He did get flustered. </p><p>As Ian thoroughly took his mouth, twisting that sinful tongue into every crevice, those large, capable hands moved up his body. Up his thighs, putting enough pressure so he moaned as they kissed.</p><p>Embarrassing as it was, even with their eyes closed, Mickey's legs split open. Allowing Ian to move closer, his hips sliding against the insides of his thighs in that slow, teasing way. He was just about to move them back when Ian pressed up against him, hard against hard, pulsing, leaking, rubbing. </p><p>"Oh," Mickey gasped, eyes rolling into his head, head tipping back while that feeling spread like fire. "Mmm."</p><p>Ian, although letting out another deep, spine tingling growl, didn't seem too put off by all that naked skin sliding together. He moved from his mouth to his neck in under a minute. That mouth; that strong, sturdy jaw working it's way from his mouth, then to his jaw, sucking and biting until Ian's face was buried in his neck. </p><p>This close, Mickey could smell him. The salty smell of sweat pooled in certain places of Ian's body. His hairline, making a few stray pieces fall forward from his forehead. The hollow of his throat, gathering its own forming pool of sweat. There would be more between Ian's shoulder blades, giving them that sexy, slick look, glistening under the harsh lights and all that poetic waxing shit. </p><p>But under that smell of sweat, was some sort of body wash. Irish Spring, if Mickey had to place the smell. A little hint of cigarette smoke, which was a comforting, familiar smell. </p><p>The rough scrape from Ian's five o'clock shadow sent a delicious feeling across his body, forcing his legs to squeeze closed, in turn squeezing Ian's sides. His nails dug into the material of the couch, so he didn't reach for what he wanted, what he needed. </p><p>"God, that smell." Ian moaned, inhaling deeply just to do it again, then again. "Gets me so hard."</p><p>Mickey arched his neck when Ian paused, trying and succeeding to start up the biting/kissing routine. "You're hard enough for both of us."</p><p>Ian shifted his body, just a gentle twist of his hips had Mickey arching into him. Friction, hot and wild in his blood but Ian controlled every moment of it. Each move pushed their groins together, pushing them together and up against their stomachs. Creating duel points of friction. </p><p>"I haven't even started yet." Ian said, beginning his low, steady path down. </p><p>As Ian moved lower, somehow covering every inch of bare skin with his mouth, then his teeth, Mickey hadn't moved, or spoken a single word. Moaning didn't count; or did they? Soft moans were reserved for when Ian used only his lips. Gentle, soft sweeps down his body. His breath began to hitch; getting stuck in his throat the moment Ian's tongue came into play. Running long lengths down his chest, then stopping just before the head of his dick, then all the way back up. Deep groans came into play when Ian used his teeth, creating that pleasure pain sensation that he never would have expected to feel so good. So addicting. </p><p>Ian had him doing it all. </p><p>His body gave an embarrassing jerk when Ian touched his nipples. It wasn't an accident. Ian found out months ago that his nipples were the most sensitive place on his body and used it against him whenever possible. Normally right before he came.</p><p>"Wonder if I can make you come just from this." Ian asked, switching nipples quickly. Mickey arched his back, allowing his hands to slide around, gripping him there, keeping his back bowed. "Wanna try?"</p><p>"No," Mickey hissed. One hand moved to the side of Ian's head, his fingers loosely curled in red hair. "Just get on me."</p><p>Ian lifted up, eyes lidded, smirking. "I'm not done yet."</p><p>"Christ." Mickey huffed. Less about annoyance and more worried about if he could last that long. </p><p>Thankfully, Ian moved away from his nipples. Letting him breathe for a moment. Spreading swift kisses down his body, but Mickey was tightly wound yet again as Ian's hot breath coasted across the head of his dick. His body squirming, his hips tilting toward Ian's mouth. </p><p>"Hurry up." Mickey lightly pushed Ian's head down by his hair, urging him to keep going. "Not gettin any younger here."</p><p>"Yeah, I can tell you're in so much of a hurry." Ian replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice." You love when I do this."</p><p>In reply, Mickey pulled Ian's hair again, waiting for some kind of resistance. Ian didn't give any. He gave that signature smirk and dipped his head down low. </p><p>If he thought his body pulled that squirmy, crazy jerk of his hips routine when Ian had only been kissing him, it was nothing compared to the warm, wet feel of Ian's mouth on him as he took him down. </p><p>And as much as he wanted to watch the flutter of green eyes, the way his slick lips parted to make room, or that blissed out look on his face, he couldn't watch. Watching resulted in a 5.3 second come shot. Each and every time. </p><p>"Goddamn." Mickey moaned deeply. His hands started up with the shakes, his legs; that were tense and bracing himself became like jell-o, giving him no help. "Shiit."</p><p>Ian's only reply was a muffled moan, making that sensational vibration travel upwards to his belly. Turning that dull ache into full blown need. </p><p>Although he didn't talk more than a muffled 'fuck' or two, Mickey showed Ian he was enjoying the fuck out of it. Once he was able to make eye contact again, he held it until Ian's eyes locked with his. It was so much more intimate. Making him want to look away, but it seemed to spur Ian on, making him move faster, moaning around him. </p><p>Then there was the way he tugged at Ian's hair, or the back of his neck, helping him bob up and down, giving him the illusion of control. Maybe at some point his hand slipped to Ian's face, his thumb brushing over his cheek in that incredible soft, gay way...maybe.</p><p>The heat built up in his groin began to boil until Mickey was a squirming, sweating mess. Panting hard, as if he couldn't breathe down anything besides lust. His legs were shaking around Ian's body, starting from the juncture of his hips, down to his toes. </p><p>"Fuck, oh fuck." Mickey finally spoke, his voice as shaky as his body. Ian's eyes; watery and cloudy, widened as if surprised. "Been a while, better stop unless this is what we're doin."</p><p>Ian took one last lingering suck, twisting his tongue from the base to the head, swirling it around him. He lollipopped the head, creating that obscene wet, smacking sound, then pulled off. </p><p>"Too much?" Ian asked, clearly proud of himself. His hand jerked him slowly, steadily, keeping that tingling sensation going. </p><p>Mickey sagged against the back of the couch. Trying to regain his composure. "Way too much, fuck."</p><p>With no more prompt necessary, Mickey watched as Ian dropped one hand down to stroke himself, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment until he reached over, grabbed a condom from the roll and the almost empty bottle of lube. </p><p>"Knees hurt yet?" Mickey was compelled to ask, why he didn't know, because Ian moved back into position without complaint. </p><p>Ian shook the bottle casually, then glanced up and Mickey could see the happiness behind that look. He squirted some on the tips of his fingers, slowly, then replied. </p><p>"I'm good for now. Don't even feel it."</p><p>"Yeah, sure."</p><p>Mickey couldn't look when Ian pulled him by the backs of his knees to the end of the couch, until his ass was hanging over the edge and his legs were forced to rise, nearly hooking on Ian's hips. He was exposed in the most intimate way, allowing Ian to do almost anything he wanted.</p><p>One strong arm slipped behind his lower back and held him there, bringing them face to face, eye to eye, he had no other choice but to let his foot rest against Ian's back. </p><p>"Want it like this." Ian said quietly, one hand moving down between their bodies to rub against his hole with slick fingers. </p><p>Mickey's leg tightened, his back arching a little as he tensed. Ian was so close he could feel his breath, nearly able to kiss his lips. "Why?"</p><p>They both waited to speak again as Ian pushed one finger all the way in. Mickey shut his eyes, rocking down as Ian bumped their noses, then nipped at his bottom lip. </p><p>"I like seeing the look on your face." </p><p>Face flushed with nowhere to hide, Mickey connected their lips, kissing Ian willingly for only the second time. Only this time he didn't pull away after a few seconds. He inhaled Ian's rumbling growl, gave a pathetic sounding whimper and surrendered to Ian's touch. </p><p>One finger soon became two, pushing inside him slowly. Twisting and stroking, getting him ready. Ian was thrusting his fingers like he did his dick, moving Mickey's entire body up against the couch, only for him sag down when he pulled them out, over and over again. </p><p>By the third and final finger, they were pretty much unable to kiss. Mickey was moaning too harshly, so the only thing he could do was put his head against Ian's, close his eyes and let Ian watch him. Both hands now gripped Ian's shoulders, digging his nails into sweaty skin. Holding on. </p><p>"Fuck, Mickey." Ian moaned, eyes wild as they soaked up everything within his sight. "Ready for me?"</p><p>Without hesitation, Mickey nodded quickly. When Ian slipped his fingers out, his body tightened, trying to keep them in. Ian smirked, ripped the condom with his teeth and held his eyes as he rolled it down. </p><p>"How we doin this?" Mickey asked, his legs were so weak he was struggling to sit up. Only the arm around his lower back tightened, keeping him there. "The fuck?"</p><p>"Told you," Ian paused, his eyes rolling back as he slid against Mickey's hole, slick and tight and burning hot. "Fuck, I told you I wanted to do it like this."</p><p>"Thought you meant gettin me ready." Mickey suppressed a shiver as Ian moved against him, rubbing back and forth, but he still managed to push against his chest. "Not like this."</p><p>"Please," Ian begged, pushing against his head, making him push back. "Just until I'm in, then we can move."</p><p>He was about to say no again, more firmly this time; that it was too close, too invasive, but Ian started to rock forward just enough for the head to nudge him. His body seized, pushing down instantly for more. </p><p>It had been a few weeks since they last fucked. Way after his ass had time to heal from getting shot by Ian's old man's crazy wife. Long enough to make him crave, to make him dream about it, long enough for his mind to start creating situations that helped relieve a little pressure. </p><p>So, now that he finally had Ian where he needed him, naked and touching him with those big hands, his sinful mouth teasing every inch of his body, the head of that monster dick pushing against him, too eager to wait...there was no way he could say no. </p><p>"Fuck, fine." Mickey knocked his head against Ian's when the fucker smiled. "Hurry up, don't keep teasing."</p><p>And as if that entire conversation didn't happen, Ian was back at it, rocking forward, moaning against his face. Mickey gave one sharp gasp, then clamped his mouth shut and let it happen. </p><p>"So much better like this, Mick." Ian moaned again and Mickey could see how dark his eyes were. "I'm not going to last long this time."</p><p>Satisfaction made him smile just before Ian pushed in a little more, turning that smile into an open mouthed gasp. His eyes closed, one hand released Ian's shoulder to grip the back of the couch. Helping him push down. </p><p>"You better." Mickey warned, ending in a gasp. "Didn't take you for a minute man."</p><p>Ian snorted. "I'm not."</p><p>"Prove it." Mickey challenged, knocking his sweaty forehead against Ian's. </p><p>Then a look crossed Ian's face, one Mickey couldn't describe right away. He wasn't even sure what it was until Ian gripped one of his thighs, his grip tight, then with one strong thrust of his hips, he slid all the way inside. </p><p>"Fuuuckk!" Mickey gasped, wrapping both legs around him to keep himself from moving up the couch. </p><p>Those cut hips were flush with his ass, locking them together tightly. Mickey could feel Ian pulsing inside him, stretching him even more. For a moment, Ian sagged against him, breathing heavily. His eyes were spaced, unfocused and Mickey watched him lick his lips again and again, wetting them. </p><p>Fuck, why did he have to be so damn beautiful? </p><p>"Move." Mickey said softly, begging as much as his body would allow. He gripped Ian's shoulder, dug his nails in and held his unfocused eyes. "Fuck me."</p><p>The growl seemed so loud it shook the couch. Mickey barely had time to feel his cheeks heat before Ian was tightening his grip and moving. Pulling all the way out, which had Mickey scrambling to bring him back, then another growl before slamming back in. </p><p>"Mick," Ian's voice cracked. He put his head into Mickey's neck, moaning. His hips colliding with Mickey's ass. "Oh my God."</p><p>The feeling was indescribable. Not just feeling Ian in him, or his body against his own, but doing it like that. Face to face. Even with Ian unable to move from his neck. This way, he could see all of it. Ian's bunching, sweaty shoulders, flushed that pink color he always liked. The curve of his back, then how his lower back tensed when he thrust in. </p><p>It felt deeper that way too. Like Ian was hitting parts of him that he never knew existed until now. It felt deeper and tighter, faster. Making that heat in his belly spread. </p><p>"Ian," Mickey whimpered without meaning to. It had Ian moving from his neck, eyes a little wide, mouth parted either in mild surprise or the need to breathe; Mickey didn't know. "Fuck."</p><p>"I know," Ian said in a shaky voice, slowing his pace a little. "Kiss me."</p><p>Moving his hand from Ian's shoulder to the back of his neck, he pulled Ian to his mouth. Swallowing that first growl. Being the first to push his tongue against Ian's, matching the pace of their bodies. </p><p>Kissing during sex was just…fuck. It was like icing on a cake, or the cherry on top of a sundae, the first snow of winter, like that first, deep, mind numbing thrust. One simple kiss turned sex into something Mickey knew nothing about. </p><p>Something he couldn't go without ever again. </p><p>For a while, minutes maybe, or seconds, Mickey couldn't do anything but lay there. He couldn't help like he usually did. Ian wasn't behind him so he couldn't push back. His legs refused to do anything more than squeeze Ian's lower back. Not even his heels pushed into Ian's ass. He simply couldn't move. </p><p>Ian was up against him, full length. Their chests touched, his dick was smashed between them, receiving tortuously good strokes by their stomachs. His hands kept him from moving off the couch while Ian's kept his body up against his own. </p><p>"You okay?" Ian asked against his mouth. Mickey wasn't looking at him. His eyes are squeezed closed. </p><p>"Yeah. Why?" Mickey replied softly, feeling Ian's eyes on him. Feeling him slow, barely pushing into him. </p><p>"Got quiet on me."</p><p>Had he? How long had it been since he said anything? </p><p>"Just…" Mickey paused, his eyes opening to see Ian's boring into his own. "Enjoying it."</p><p>Ian smiled. "Good to hear."</p><p>Mickey smiled briefly, then looked away. "Don't worry about me, just do your thing."</p><p>Ian's pace increased, their corresponding breathing made it noticeable. "I don't like when you get quiet. I like when you're here with me."</p><p>Fucking sap. A beautiful, considerate, passionate, sap. Mickey might be a little in love. </p><p>Without a second thought, Mickey kissed him. Nothing to match Ian's increasing pace, but something softer, quicker, but had that lingering effect that made it hard to pull away. </p><p>"M' here." Mickey said when it ended. His body moved, absorbing another deep thrust. "Fuck, just can't move. You're fucking huge."</p><p>Ian chuckled, then moved back so he wasn't lying on top of him. His chest was pink, splotchy. A few marks from where Ian sucked against his skin too hard, even a few teeth indentations. </p><p>"Never thought I'd hear you say that." Ian took the smack to his chest with a smile. "You want some room to move?"</p><p>Keeping his eyes up, mostly so he didn't blush like a girl, Mickey shrugged. "Just don't know what to do just layin here."</p><p>Ian pushed in again slowly, watching his face, watching his mouth part for a silent moan. "You're supposed to enjoy it, Mick. Nothing rushed, no looking over our shoulder, just...enjoy it."</p><p>Mickey let a soft moan escape before he licked his lips. "I am, fuck, I am." Ian smiled. "But I always move, now I'm not."</p><p>"Fine," Ian tightened his grip around Mickey's lower back. "Let's get you movin."</p><p>There was no time to object. Ian picked him up easily, making him scramble to find some part of him to hold onto. He was lifted off the couch, watched Ian easily hold his weight, then turn and sit himself down, with Mickey straddling his lap. </p><p>"No, no, hell no." Mickey mumbled quickly, trying to move off him but each time Ian's dick pushed deep into his body, stopping him. "Not like this. Anything but this."</p><p>Ian held his hips tightly. "Yeah, like this. Gives you plenty of room to move."</p><p>The angle was so much deeper. Making starbursts flash behind his eyes, making his stomach quiver. But he had no idea how to do that, how to ride, how to be in control. Ian always took control. </p><p>"I can't," Mickey gasped, panicking until Ian lifted up with his hips, pushing into him sharply. He exhaled a shaky moan, his hands gripping Ian's forearms that held his hips. "Fuck, I can't."</p><p>Ian sat up, kissing over Mickey's splotchy chest. He thrust up again, holding Mickey when his body trembled. "Yeah, you can."</p><p>"Ian," Mickey bit his lip, knowing if he opened up, another string of moans would spill out. </p><p>"Feel that?" Ian asked, then moved again. </p><p>Mickey nodded quickly. </p><p>"You know it feels better like this." Ian licked across his nipple, making Mickey tighten around him. "It feels so much better Mickey, deeper. You can take me how you need me."</p><p>The talk...fuck, the talk was getting to him. His shaky hands moved up Ian's arms. One gripping his neck muscle, the other sliding into damp hair, pulling. </p><p>"Ian," Mickey whispered again, his eyes still closed. </p><p>"Look at me." Ian wrapped both arms around his back, until blue eyes opened. "You can do it. I know you can. Just move how you want, how you need. Do what feels good."</p><p>Ian looked just as debauched as he did. Panting, pink, splotchy skin, shaky legs, pulsing inside him. Mickey had never seen him look so sexy before. But he was still so confident, in both of them. </p><p>"I'll help you," Ian squeezed under Mickey's thighs, then lifted until his body slid up against him. They both groaned. "See, just like that. Please."</p><p>Although out of his element, panicky, nervous, and unsure if he could really do it, Mickey couldn't deny how good it felt. Too good to move, too good to stop. </p><p>"Trust me." </p><p>It was whispered against his lips, begging him. Mickey couldn't say no to that. He didn't want to. So, he nodded, amazed at Ian's deep growl in response. </p><p>"Help me." Mickey moved Ian's hands to his hips, squeezing until his knuckles turned white. "Help me."</p><p>"Push up on your knees," Ian instructed, his hands kneading Mickey's hips, squeezing rhythmically. "Then move down, slow, fast, whatever you like. I'll guide you."</p><p>"What about what you want?" Mickey asked so suddenly, it took Ian a few seconds to realize what he said. </p><p>"Fuck," Ian moaned, pushing back into the couch, his hands gripping Mickey's hips again. "I'm gonna love anyway you move Mick, fast slow…" He groaned. "I wasn't kidding when I said I wouldn't last."</p><p>Mickey smiled.</p><p>"With you on me, cut that short time in half."</p><p>"So, like a thirty second man, not one minute?" Mickey teased just for Ian to smile again. "Good to know."</p><p>"Oh, fuck off. The second you start to move, I give it under five minutes til you blow."</p><p>A challenge between them was always a little dangerous, but twice as much fun as with anyone else. </p><p>"Let's find out."</p><p>All the laughter faded quickly. Leaving them staring at each other. That need was back in full force, making Mickey wonder how they could go from something so intimate, to something light and playful, then back again.</p><p>Now it was up to him. Ian's hands stayed on his hips, ready to assist, but he had to make the first move. Ian said press up on his knees.</p><p>So, he did. And he almost blacked out. His eyes crossed as they shut, possibly even rolled back into his head. </p><p>"Fuck, that's it." Ian growled, pulling on Mickey's hips to bring him back down. </p><p>"God!" Mickey sat back down, panting as if he'd run a mile. His legs shaking out of control. His body quivering. "Mmm."</p><p>"Again," Ian said roughly, this time lifting Mickey himself. "Keep going, don't stop."</p><p>Again and again he moved. Each time better than the last, each time making his legs feel like they'd break off and fall to the floor. Each time Ian's grip tightened, blunt nails digging into his hips, urging him down with a certain force that somehow made it all feel so much better. </p><p>Ian was a mess. More so than he was. Sweet slicked his entire body. Dripping from the short ends of his hair, down each side of his jaw, his neck. A pool gathered between his pecs. But also where their skin connected. He could feel his thighs sticking to Ian's hips. </p><p>Each time he moved, Ian gripped harder, muffling a growl by clenching his teeth. Mickey could feel each pulse inside him, wondering if he leaked a little each time.</p><p>Mickey found a rhythm. With Ian pulling down or pushing up, it enabled him to move freely until he found a speed he could work with. Now, Ian's grip was there to ground him, not to assist. His hands even moved to his thighs, squeezing, then his stomach, his dick, which made him falter in his rhythm. </p><p>"Don't do that." Mickey warned, he barely had a voice. "Too sensitive."</p><p>Ian whined, but moved his hand off him, settling it just below. "But it's fucking sexy when it slaps your stoamch like that."</p><p>Mickey blushed, turning his face into one arm. "Ian."</p><p>"I'm serious. Fuck, the way it looks, the way it sounds. Leaving a wet trail across...fuck, I love it." Ian growled again, shaking off the urge to keep talking about it. </p><p>"Just shut up!" Mickey sat down hard, taking the next words from Ian's mouth. "I already feel close, man. Don't need your added commentary."</p><p>"Got it." </p><p>The first time the phone rang, neither of them reacted. Too into it. Too focused to give a shit. They might have traded looks, lifted eyebrows from Ian, asking if he needed to get it. He probably did, but couldn't stop. </p><p>That little tingle was a full blown buzz now. His legs started to tire, and Ian was there to pick up the slack. Lifting his hips again, pushing into him as he sat down. Again and again until he felt it. </p><p>"Fuck, I'm close." Mickey warned, his hands moving over Ian's heaving chest. </p><p>"Me too, I've been ready." </p><p>When the phone rang again, an annoying shrill sound, Mickey gave an irritated groan. "Fuck off."</p><p>Ian smiled. "Focus Mick, don't lose it."</p><p>"I won't," he promised, moving one hand on top of Ian's and slid it up his chest. "It's right there."</p><p>"Yeah, it is. I can feel you squeezing me."</p><p>The phone rang again, and again. "Damn it."</p><p>"Just answer, but keep moving."</p><p>Ian held onto him as Mickey reached over to the end table and grabbed the phone off the cradle. Ian jerked him back once he had it, holding both his thighs and gave a deep thrust. </p><p>"Shit!" Mickey gasped, crushing the phone in his hand and bounced quickly, taking him deeper and faster. "Keep going, I feel it."</p><p>"Hold on."</p><p>Ian was relentless. Once again making it so he couldn't move. He could only sit there and try not to come, try to block out the hard slapping sound when his dick hit his stomach again and again. </p><p>The phone rang again and Mickey answered it before the first ring was completed. "Fuck off!" He growled. </p><p>"Is this the Milkovich residence?"</p><p>The slightly concerned, but authoritative voice had him slowing. Panting as he settled in Ian's lap. Ian ever stopped, just slowed, making him move against him like a wave. </p><p>"Yes. Why?" </p><p>"I'm calling about Ian Gallagher." She said, unsure. </p><p>"Mick!" Ian whined, pushing at his thighs. "I'm so fucking close."</p><p>"Shut up!" He barked at Ian, then spoke into the phone. "What about him?"</p><p>"He gave us this number as an emergency contact."</p><p>Dark eyebrows lifted as his heart pounded inside his chest. "What's wrong?"</p><p>"Mister Gallagher is supposed to be here with us at the Level 15 Group Home, court ordered. We did a count tonight and he isn't with us."</p><p>Ian gave them his number for emergencies.</p><p>"Mickey, fuck. Please!" Ian begged, falling apart under him. </p><p>Mickey rolled his hips, his eyes closing as Ian moved faster. "Yeah, so?" He said to whatever her name was. </p><p>"Have you seen him, or spoken to him?"</p><p>"I'm gonna fucking come!"</p><p>Mickey pulled the phone from his mouth, "don't do it, Ian."</p><p>"I can't--"</p><p>"Yes, you can." Mickey put his hand over Ian's mouth to silence the moaning. "Hold it."</p><p>"Sir?"</p><p>"No," Mickey snapped. "Haven't seen or heard from him. Don't call here again." He gave a surprised yelp into the phone when the head of Ian's dick pushed into his prostate. </p><p>The woman gave a knowing gasp, then disconnected the call. </p><p>"There." Mickey whined and dropped the phone, one hand moving to his dick, stroking fast. "Oh God, oh my God."</p><p>"M' sorry," Ian's body shook. "I'm coming, oh fuck."</p><p>As good as it all felt, as overwhelming and consuming, nothing made him come harder than watching Ian come. He was mesmerized. He couldn't even try not to come, it just happened. </p><p>As Ian's body quivered under him, as that pool of sweat that gathered between Ian's pecs overflowed and dripped down both sides of his chest, as Ian moaned his name in that broken way; Mickey came. </p><p>His entire body moved with it. Each stroke. Each rock of his hips, each push of Ian's, only helped it along. Helped him ride it out until his chest and stomach was covered in thick, white ropes of come, until his hand stroked lazily over his dick. Until his thighs ached from </p><p>"Goddamn," Ian muttered between ragged breaths. "I've never…." He paused, shuddering. "Not like that."</p><p>Mickey nodded because he knew. He really knew. "I know, me either."</p><p>Their eyes met, a smile was shared and then Ian was pulling him down. Making him gasp and wiggle at the angle change. Another smile was shared, one that made Mickey's cheeks tingle, then they were kissing. </p><p>Nothing urgent like before, something softer, slower. And as if he was allowed, his body loosened, fully leaning against Ian's chest, deepening the kiss. </p><p>Ragged breaths were traded during the kiss, trying to come down, but showing enthusiasm for the kiss. Mickey kept his sticky hand on Ian's chest but let the other one move into his hair, sweat making it cling to his fingers. </p><p>Ian's hands moved lazily over his body as well. Up his back, across the roundness of his cheeks, his shaking thighs. A comforting touch, soothing as well as amplifying that constant need in him. </p><p>When the kiss slowed, they shared another smile, and stayed that way. Not bothering to move away, or sit up. He didn't feel the need for space and Ian didn't either. </p><p>"So, who was on the phone?" Ian asked after a moment. </p><p>"Family home, said you gave em my number?" He asked, eyebrows lifted in satisfaction. "Any reason why?"</p><p>Ian blushed. Mickey could tell even under the sexual flush on his face. "My family knows where I am, you're the only other person who would give a shit if something happened."</p><p>That was not what he expected. It knocked the smile off his face and Ian gave him an apprehensive look, like maybe that hadn't been the right thing to say. </p><p>In all honesty, Mickey was blown away by that statement. Ian had family, people who knew where he was, who could help him if shit in the family home went sideways, but still gave them his number. </p><p>"I didn't think they'd call." Ian said when Mickey didn't. "They didn't bother last time."</p><p>"You gave em my number last time too?" Mickey asked, once again taken off guard. Ian nodded shyly. "Why?"</p><p>Mickey was aware he asked again, but his mind refused to believe why Ian actually gave them his number. </p><p>"Because," Ian stopped, taking a deep breath before he continued. "If something bad happened, I knew it would matter to you in a way that it wouldn't with anyone else."</p><p>Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. </p><p>He had no idea what to say to that. That went past them being fuck buddies, or friends. It was more. He knew it. Ian knew it and he had no idea how to reply. </p><p>So, he kissed him. Both hands on Ian's face, shut his eyes and kissed him. </p><p>Ian moaned in surprise. Then in pleasure and kissed him back. </p><p>When he pulled back, Mickey let their heads rest together and they shared another one of those special smiles. "You're a soft motherfucker."</p><p>Ian chuckled. "Yeah, but I'm okay with that."</p><p>Mickey's thumbs brushed across Ian's flushed cheeks, as a different kind of warmth spread inside him, inside his heart. "Yeah, I am too."</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>